


Ryan's no bodyguard but Sam thinks that's okay

by alley_oops, jennandanica



Series: Citadel: Sam Worthington and Ryan Kwanten [187]
Category: Actor RPF, Australian Actor RPF, Citadel (Journalfen RPG), True Blood RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-04-14 19:50:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14143290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alley_oops/pseuds/alley_oops, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica
Summary: This is a re-posting (archiving) of all logs for the Sam Worthington/Ryan Kwanten storyline in the BDSM RPS RPGCitadel.





	Ryan's no bodyguard but Sam thinks that's okay

**Author's Note:**

> This is a re-posting (archiving) of all logs for the Sam Worthington/Ryan Kwanten storyline in the BDSM RPS RPG [Citadel](http://citadel.dreamwidth.org/read).

"I'm not trying to change you, I swear I'm not," Ryan insists, closely reading the label on a can of textured vegetable protein. "It's just a challenge to myself. I want to see if I can make a vegan dish so awesome you won't be able to tell the difference from the meat dish." He shoots Sam a grin and puts two of the cans into their cart. "And then we can hold my awesomeness in reserve for when we ever need suck-up points with Natalie."

Sam gives Ryan another look. "Textured vegetable protein?" He shudders. "They could've at least come up with a better name for it. Who the hell wants to eat something called textured vegetable protein?" he mutters, making another face.

"Well, who wants to fuck themselves with something called a dildo?" Ryan murmurs, leaning in until his shoulder brushes Sam's. "They're both fake meat."

Sam laughs then shakes his head. "You're being a bad boy," he murmurs back, eyes sparkling. "Might have to punish you for that when we get home. Talking dirty to your sir in public..."

"I'm very sorry," Ryan replies softly, his expression perfectly contrite. Except for his eyes, which are dancing. "Am I encouraging you too much? Your boy loves it when you talk dirty to him in public. He loves being punished, too." And here in the local market in Hartford, Connecticut, it nearly feels removed enough from Hollywood to be safe.

Sam grins. "Yeah, you just wait and see--"

"Excuse me?"

Sam turns to find a short stout woman in her mid-fifties standing there, with what he assumes is her husband behind her. She has a notebook and pen in hand and is almost vibrating with excitement.

"You're Sam Worthington, aren't you?" she says, loudly enough that a few other shoppers stop to watch.

"Yes, Ma'am," Sam answers with a wide, easy smile.

"I can't tell you how thrilled we are that you're shooting here. It's so exciting. We loved you in Avatar," she says, blushing a little.

"And Man on a Ledge," her husband adds.

"Thanks." Sam nods. "I'm really happy to be working here. Did you want me to sign something for you?" he asks, gesturing at her notebook.

"Yes, please, would you? Make it to Cathy," she says, smiling at Ryan too. "Are you famous as well?"

"Oh. No, ma'am," Ryan assures her, falling back a step. He tries not to be obvious as he edges away from Sam, increasing the distance between them. _Fuck_. "I'm not anyone." He turns away and busies himself inspecting their shopping list.

Sam rolls his eyes. "He is too. That's Ryan, he's my personal assistant. He's a songwriter," he tells her. "Writes for Aidan Scott."

"Oh, really?" Cathy says, taking another look at Ryan. "Why is he working as your assistant then?"

"Because this job lets him have the time to write more," Sam says, signing more autographs as a line starts forming behind Cathy and her husband.

Ryan shrugs a little, and hopes that his cheeks aren't flaming. God, he wishes Sam hadn't said anything about him; he would have much preferred to fade into the background and not draw more attention to the two of them as a pair of any kind. He nervously eyes the growing crowd and wonders whether he should be doing his job as Sam's 'assistant' and calling security right now. Is this the kind of town where people tweet about celebrity sightings, creating mob scenes within minutes?

Sam scrawls short messages on two dozen or so napkins, notebooks and random pieces of paper before holding his hands up. "Sorry, guys, but I just got here the other day and we've got to get some groceries into the house. I'll be here for six weeks though, so don't hesitate to stop me another time." There's a bit of grumbling but people mostly back off after another minute and Sam gives Ryan a look. "Next time, I'll wear a disguise," he murmurs as the space around them finally clears.

Ryan ducks his head, and now he _knows_ that his whole face is crimson. "I'm sorry," he whispers to Sam, randomly grabbing items from shelves and tossing them into his shopping basket. He wants to get them out of the store as quickly as possible. "I'm sorry."

"Hey." Sam reaches for Ryan's wrist, forcing him to stop. "What's going on? What're you sorry for?"

That hold on his arm brings Ryan up short just like it's meant to, but the psychological weight of it is even heavier than the physical one. "I'm sorry for not... not protecting you from that," he whispers. "You know, like a real assistant would have. Like I should have." He'd just gotten so freaked out about keeping their - Sam's - secrets, that he'd instinctively tried to retreat, leaving his lover on his own to face whatever was coming. _Fucking coward_.

"That's not your job," Sam says, releasing Ryan's arm and putting his hand on his shoulder. "That's security's job and as you may have noticed, I'm not walking around with bodyguards. You didn't do anything wrong."

"Okay," Ryan says softly, but it's just acknowledgment of what Sam said; he doesn't agree at all. "I think we've got everything we need," he says to change the subject, and looks over their cart. "If you just want to grab a couple six-packs and meet me at checkout."

Fuck. Sam can tell by now when Ryan's only agreeing so Sam'll move on from the subject but here's not the place to get into it so he just nods. "I'll be right there," he tells him, wishing he could give Ryan a kiss or hell, even a fucking hug, but he knows everyone's watching them.

Ryan is as silent as he can be while they wrap up their shopping, speaking up only to thank their cashier. But once they're back in their rental car, he knows he owes his lover an explanation. "I'm sorry," he murmurs again, and turns to look Sam in the eye. "It's just... I feel so protective of you. And it's not like you ever even need that from me. And then the one time that maybe you did..." He trails off, biting his bottom lip.

Sam exhales softly, leaning his head back against the headrest. "Why'd you step away?" he asks.

"I panicked," Ryan confesses in a whisper. "I was so worried that maybe they would look at me with you and they'd _know_. Fuck knows I never hide it well to start with -- how I feel about you, I mean. And I would completely lose my shit if I ever fucked things up for you."

"Then you were trying to protect me anyway, weren't you?" Sam says.

Ryan blinks, and then his gaze sharpens. "I... Yeah, I guess." It's a completely different way of looking at things. But it's still not the whole story. "Do you see it that way?"

"Yeah, but I also don't want you thinking you need to do that," Sam says. "If there's going to be rumours, they're going to be there no matter what we do. You're not gonna give us away."

"You... huh." Ryan studies Sam, more than a bit thrown by his lover's candor. "You sound more resigned to that possibility than I thought you would be. Than I thought you were, I mean."

Christ. He does, doesn't he? Sam stares out the window, but he's not seeing a thing. Lost in his own thoughts. "Maybe I'm just getting tired of hiding things," he says finally, softly, starting the car.

His mouth goes dry, and Ryan stares at his lover. "It's too soon," he whispers, and he doesn't even realize that it sounds like he's arguing. "It's not how we planned." Sam pulls the car out of the parking lot, and Ryan figures it's safe enough now that he can lay his hand lightly on his lover's thigh.

"I know," Sam says, staring almost blindly at the road ahead, "and I'm not advocating we should come right out and announce it to the whole fucking world. I'm just - I don't give a shit if someone wants to speculate. I don't want you trying to crawl into the fucking woodwork every time someone so much as looks at us together."

"You don't?" Ryan recalls his surprise at the moment when Sam pulled him forward and introduced him to their admirers.

Sam shakes his head. "You're not only my lover, you're my best mate," he says slowly, feeling his way through the whole fucking mess of it. "And I'm not trying to hide that from anyone. I'm just trying to put off announcing that we're fucking each other's brains out every chance we get for as long as we can because the assholes who run this fucking industry think it makes enough of a difference to moviegoers that they won't let me anywhere near a lead role if they find out for sure."

Ryan smiles faintly. "I think that makes you even sexier." Then he rolls his eyes and adds, with a shake of his head for good measure, "Okay, I mean, obviously I think you're sexier than if you only liked to have sex with women. But... still. Anal sex is not for pussies, if you know what I mean."

Sam snickers.

Which just sets Ryan off. God, what a pair they are. He finally tries to smother the last of his snickers against his hand, then grins over at his lover. He feels a thousand times better now than he did twenty minutes ago. One might argue it's because they had a sensible discussion and talked the issues through. But Ryan prefers to think that it's simply _Sam_ , who can heal and soothe Ryan just by existing.

Sam grins back, dropping one hand from the wheel to link his fingers with Ryan's. "Better?"

"Yeah." Ryan gives his lover a happy smile, squeezing his hand for a moment. "And when we're back home in our absolutely amazing lakefront house on top of a mountain, and clothing becomes completely optional, I'll be all the way better."


End file.
